


Fun with Snipers

by W4nderingStar



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fighting Kink, Gabe has some weird ideas about foreplay, Gun Kink, Jack just wants his hubby to notice him when he's working, Knife Kink, M/M, Reaper's night goes to shit real fast, Sassy Old Men, Sniper - Freeform, danger kink can't forget that one, namless grunts, shooting kink, stupid sexy Morrison, super soldiers showing off their skills, what I'm saying is that Gabe has a lot of violence related kinks, you can never trust them to get the job done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 03:43:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8148053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/W4nderingStar/pseuds/W4nderingStar
Summary: It was supposed to be an easy escort mission....





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Midna_Ronoa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midna_Ronoa/gifts).



> Everyone, you can 100% blame/curse/thank Midna_Ronoa for this fic. Our chats on tumblr inspired many a headcannon, but this one leapt out and needed to be written. I hope you enjoy this little bit of fun. 
> 
> *Takes place some time after the events of Breaking and Entering. Just encase anyone was wondering... Noooo I'm totally not building a timeline leading to a future fic... 
> 
> Heads up there is a LOT of Spanish in this. I've used the hover-text feature, but please let me know if I missed any, discounting small words like Si. But the translations are all in the end notes as well!

A bullet buzzed his mask. The shock wave from the round lit up his HUD with warnings and trajectory information at the same instant there was a squelch beside him. A split second later, blood and gray matter splattered the side of his head. Great. Now he'd have to clean his hood.

 

There were two explanations. One: someone had got _very_ lucky and managed to get the drop on him—Impossible. He was too damn good for that.—Two: A very good sniper had just given him a warning.

 

“Enemy sniper,” Reaper growled to his team. “Secure the payload!”

 

The Talon grunts scattered. Reaper ghosted his legs. He flowed across the dirty pavement with supernatural speed toward the rig. He yanked open the passenger door with his left hand at the same moment a grunt slid into the driver's seat.

 

The second shot blasted the spikes off the back of his gauntlet. The cab of the rig erupted in red. Reaper ghosted away from the payload as the headless body slumped over and thudded to the ground. A _very_ good sniper.

 

He re-materialized in the shadow of a doorway. He glanced at his gauntlet. The shot came from a new angle. They moved fast. Was that another warning shot? Or something else? Twice now they could have shot him with ease and chose not to. It pissed him off. He put a claw to his ear, activating the secure frequency comline.

 

“I want their position. Now!”

 

Chatter washed over the line. No one saw anything. Reaper glanced at his surroundings. This shady part of London was a maze of tight alleyways, condemned apartment buildings, outdated telephone boxes, and crumbling sky-ways that arched from building to building. The entire alley was accessible from any angle.

 

A sniper's paradise.

 

It'd been silent. Their sniper had re-positioned. Reaper needed to get this payload moving and he was being thwarted by one goddamn shooter. Time to draw them out.

 

“I'm drawing their fire. Someone get me a position or your souls are forfeit.” He was not in the mood to deal with this.

 

He ghosted again, circling the rig, looking in all directions for some sign of his shooter. Nothing. He pooled over the dead body, reaping it—waste not, want not and all that—and then re-materialized, shotguns in hand. Fucking nothing. He turned, mask scanning. No shots. Was he not the target then? He put a heavy combat boot on the step into the driver's seat. If he had to drive this piece of shit himself—

 

A round nicked his cowl, yanking it off his head as the rig's engine let out a plaintive pop. The grav-lifts flickered and cut out. Reaper leapt back, ghosting back to a shadow as the vehicle thudded to the ground, engine blown to shit.

 

That shot had been fucking _playful_.

 

It could have blown his head off. It would have been easier to blow his head off. That angle to nick just his cowl but hit the engine? That took some real fucking skill.

 

It also meant there was only one direction the shot could have come from. He pointed at the fourth floor of an abandoned apartment complex. “Light it up.”

 

His squad fired. Their guns rattled off an earsplitting barrage of death. The ancient facade came away in chunks. What glass was left exploded. A pillar collapsed into the alley, kicking up a curtain of dust. Fuck, that could be more cover. But Talon liked maximum carnage. Those bullets were spiral-pointed. They'd through-and-through that building, the next, and everything in between. If their sniper was anywhere in there, they were nursing shredded organs now.

 

“Hold fire.”

 

The noise died away. Nothing. The dust slowly settled. Reaper stepped out, presenting a target. Nothing.

 

“Form up on the payload and unload it,” he snarled. This night was already shitty and now his mood was as black as his coat. “Now!” he snapped.

 

The six remaining grunts broke cover and trotted to the broken rig.

 

Reaper strode toward the payload, coat fluttering behind him, to oversee the idiots. He wasn't about to do any heavy lifting himself after this shit. One of the grunts lowered the tailgate and jumped in the bed. He took a step. A fourth shot went straight through his neck. The body cartwheeled over the bed of the rig and crashed to the pavement.

 

There was a jerk at his Kevlar. Reaper looked down. That bullet had caught him in the buckle across his chest, tearing away the spare shells, letting his coat flutter open. The shot hadn't even scraped the body suit under the strap.

 

Playful and taunting. Oh, he was the sniper's target all right, and they were letting him know in no uncertain terms that this wasn't over.

 

“Fall back!” he yelled.

 

The grunts scattered back to cover. Another shot spattered one against a phone booth. The blood matched the paint perfectly. Reaper whirled around, following the trajectory. The west roof. A glint of moonlight on metal. Got you, _ pinche puto_.

 

He melted into the shadows, flowing through them swiftly and stepping out onto the roof, shotguns drawn.

 

Nothing. How could there be nothing? Shadow step took seconds. No sniper could re-position that fast. He glanced around the roof. No nest. A mobile target. They knew they'd be up against a squad. Then they knew they'd need quick escapes. He kicked aside a few broken slats of wood. They covered a hole into the building.

 

“ _Cojeme _ ,” he muttered. He was not in the mood for hide and seek.

 

Another shot. He ran to the edge of the roof. Another grunt down. His HUD flashed a warning. Movement in a window in the building across from him. He saw the glint of metal aimed at him and ghosted. He dropped down five stories to the pavement as smoke. How the hell had the shooter moved so fucking fast? He hit the ground and rematerialized. He was going to goddamn—

 

Something clunked on his left. His ammo-belt lay on the ground a foot away from him. They fucking shot off his fucking belt! When he got his claws on this _ cabrón _ he was going to reap their soul so fucking slow and painful.

 

He ghosted, streaming across the open alleyway. A bullet grazed his smoke. If he'd had lungs and vocal cords, he would have growled. What he needed was better bait. He gathered himself together in the shadows behind one of the remaining three of the squad. The grunt turned. Reaper grabbed his face and wrenched him out of his cover out into the open.

 

The grunt struggled, screaming as Reaper's claws dug into his face, yanking him to the side. “Here kitty, kitty,” Reaper snarled.

 

A bullet ripped through the grunt's liver. Reaper's Blackwatch medallion clattered to the ground, severed cleanly from its leather strap at his hip. Impressive. And now he had their position. He let the body drop, ready to ghost. A bullet grazed him. The Kevlar on his right thigh parted in a six-inch tear, revealing his gray skin.

 

That froze him. What the fuck? Instead of shadow stepping to the slit in the wall the shot had come from, Reaper melted back into the shadows. They kill the grunts, but only graze him. Where they just showing off? Or were they trying to draw him out?

 

A sizzle and thud by his ear made him glance over his shoulder. There was a new hole in the wall. Missed shot? Or a friendly note that the sniper knew exactly where he was? He sniffed the air. Was that... pulse munition?

 

Something metal tinkled on the pavement.

 

One of the remaining grunts shouted.

 

Reaper caught a glimpse of a rocket cartridge rolling along the ground toward the last two of his squad. _Joder._

 

A muffled pop— _pinche puto_ was right above him!—and the cartridge bloomed into an inferno. Reaper turned his face away, his mask's settings cutting out sound so the explosion didn't rupture his eardrums. When the mask deemed the sound levels safe for human hearing, Reaper turned back to look at the damage.

 

The rig was on fire, payload going up in flames. A smoking crater was all that remained of half the alley and the last of his squad.

 

So much for an easy escort mission.

 

Reaper touched his ear, switching over to an open frequency. Incredible speed, super-human accuracy, pulse munitions, rockets... an obsession with his thighs. _"Mi amor ¿Eres tú jugueteando?”_

 

The comline was silent. The only sound was the crackling of the flames.

 

_ “Eres tú ¿no?" _

 

Another pop. His other belt fell to the ground, sheared off his hip without touching him. Reaper shivered as heat pooled in his belly and seeped into his veins. His cock pressed against his Kevlar jock strap.

 

_ "Sal, sal de donde quiera que estés." _

 

He ghosted. A bullet whizzed through the smoke were his left thigh would have been. Laughing in his head, he flowed along the shadows, slipping through the crack under a door into an abandoned room. He materialized behind a wall next to a window. Not a great tactical view. But now that he knew who he was up against... well, it was time to play the game seriously. He switched from an open frequency to _their_ line, the line that would put his voice into one ear and one ear alone.

 

 _"Voy a encontrarte, Jack,"_ he purred.

 

He sprinted by the window. A pulse round shattered the dirty glass a breath behind him. He made it to the safety of the shadows behind another wall. Chuckling, he pulled the Reaper mask off, now that it was him and Jack.

 

Gabe tucked the mask in the back of his pants, shadow stepping three floors up and six apartments over. Better view, less glass, but more smoke from the fires. He used it for cover so he could take his time.

 

“Do you have a nest somewhere, _pajarillo?"_ Gabe whispered into the comline. His gaze shifted over the alley, searching for any possible hiding spots, any movement. “I bet you've been lonely. Up here in your cold nest, my little bird, all alone. How about some hot blooded company, _corazón?"_

 

There. A flash of white along one of the sky-ways. Gabe dissolved, shadow stepping through the abandoned rooms, up to the roof. He lunged, combat rolling behind a pillar of the sky-way. He poked his head out. Nothing on the bridge itself. He pulled his head back just as a bullet ripped away the corner of his hiding place. It would have taken off his nose a second sooner.

 

Gabe let out a rumbling chuckle as his hand slid between his legs. Goddamn, hard already. _"Bello,_ be careful with that gun, you know what it does to me.” He ghosted along the sky-way to another roof. Re-materializing behind a vent, he tilted his head back and inhaled deeply. There was the London pollution, smoke, burning gas... and the pinewood scent of aftershave. Gabe rumbled. His little bird was just here. Now... where had he gone?

 

Jack would have no shot down in the building with Gabe on the roof. He'd have to stay up here. Gabe slid out from behind the vent. A round nearly grazed him. He rolled behind a roof access stairwell.

 

“Your eyes must be fucked worse than you let on. _Has fallado, guapo."_

 

A soft chuckle that reminded Gabe of summer sunshine floated over the line.

 

_ “¿Ah si?” _

 

Fuck. Gabe nearly came just hearing Jack's rough voice after so long in silence. And Spanish no less. He glanced down at himself. A strip of black kevlar was split from his knee to his hip. Gabe bit his lip and only halfheartedly tried to swallow his moan. Fuck! Just a few grazes had him all hot and bothered. He hadn't even closed in on his prey yet and his dick was straining against his jock uncomfortably.

 

“Is that what you want?” he purred, palming his crotch. “My thighs out in the open?”

 

The line was quiet save for the faintest hitching of breath.

 

Gabe grinned, grinding his hand against his jock. “When I find you, I'm going to wrap them around that pretty face of yours until you're begging for air.”

 

When he moved from his cover to the next, Jack's shot was slow and at least an inch off the mark. Apparently Gabe wasn't the only one distracted by their little game. He chuckled. “So easy, Jack. Always were.”

 

Material flapped, then the smell of aftershave vanished.

 

_ "Corre todo lo que quieras, la muerte viene a por ti." _

 

Jack chuckled his sunshine laugh again. _"La muerte llega con demasiada facilidad."_

 

Cheeky bastard. He broke cover, flowing over the rooftop until he found a filthy, discarded rug. Kicking it aside, he slipped through the hole in the roof it hid and into darkness.

 

These old apartments were long abandoned. If there were squatters, the firefight and explosion should have run them off. Until the cops showed up, this was their playground. Where had his little bird flown to?

 

With light steps, he prowled through the dark room, careful to keep behind cover. It was no fun if he made it easy. The scent of pine lead him on, teasing his nose, promising him his reward was near. But Jack always seemed to flutter just out of reach.

 

Gabe slipped by a widow. He realized his mistake when there was a tug at his coat. Black material flapped, slowing falling to the floor.

 

“Taking out your frustrations on my coat, _mi amor_?” He grinned, leaving himself haloed by the faint moonlight coming in the window. He ran a hand down his ass, claws fingering the ragged edge of his coat that now ended at the top of his thighs. He let his fingertips graze the black leather that covered his ass. “Nice shot. Or where you aiming for something else?”

 

He slipped into the shadows as another shot shattered the remaining glass of the window. This time, there was a flash of red further down the hall, and the tell-tale click of an empty clip ejecting. Gabe ghosted closer. Now oh-so-light footfalls whispered in the darkness. He materialized in time to see a glint of blue vanish into the shadows. Grinning, he inhaled the strong scent of pine and that musky-sweet scent that drove him crazy. His pants were far too fucking tight.

 

“Are you even trying?” he purred, flowing after the retreating form. “Or do you want to be caught, _pajarillo?"_

 

The hall branched in three directions. Jack's scent lead him down the left. Here most of the walls had been knocked down, leaving a vast, empty space with plenty of cover spots. It was a long, open walk to the other end. He'd make a very good target.

 

 _"Mi corazón_ ,” he called to the room. _"Me tienes hambriento."_  He stepped into the open, arms out, palms upturned.

 

A bullet grazed his shoulder, tearing off the armor strap. His coat sagged to one side.

 

“And they say romance is dead.” He chuckled walking slowly toward the end of the room.

 

The other shoulder strap came off with a sharp tug as a round severed it. The coat and hood slid to the floor.

 

“Is that all you wanted to take off?” Gabe said, striding purposefully slow toward the shadows were the shots had come from.

 

His last ammo belt jingled as the buckle was shot off and clunked to the floor. The delicious wave of lust that washed through his body made him tremble. He hooked his thumb behind the buckle of his pants belt. “Why don't you let me do this one, little bird.” It clicked when he pressed it. He pulled it off his hips and let it fall. “Now... why don't we—”

 

A shot exploded above his head. He jumped back as a beam of old wood crashed to the floor, bringing a rain of debris down between them. Dust obscured the heady scent he craved.

 

“Jack!” he roared, ghosting past the obstacle. He flung aside the pile of crumbling masonry to find an empty sniper spot. “Jack!” he roared at the ceiling. _"¡Vuelve aquí! ¡Ahora!"_

 

Another soft chuckle in his ear over the com. _“Siempre tan impaciente, Gabriel. ¿Que hay de divertido en eso?”_

 

Gabe smirked. _"Comienza la cacería."_

 

_ "Atrápame si puedes." _

 

Oh he would catch him. Catch him, pin him to the wall, and fuck him into next week! He hungered for his sweet little bird. He ghosted, slinking through the shadows, following the trail of pine and sweat like a jaguar on the hunt.

 

Whenever he slipped into a room, Jack always seemed to just be slipping out. He never made a wrong move, never made a sound. Nothing but the flutter of footsteps and the ghost of aftershave.

 

Gabe couldn't have been more turned on. The thrill of the hunt, the struggle with a worthy opponent. And Jack's bright as sunshine laugh in his ear, tempting him, teasing him, always just out of reach.

 

The hunt could go on all night. Gabe licked his lips. He'd like that. As if on cue to ruin his fun, sirens blared. He glanced out a glass-less window. A herd of police cars streamed down the alley, fanning out, doors flying open. His claws sank into the wood of the sill. Damn it! The game wasn't finished yet. A fire engine parted the sea of black and white, pulling alongside the still-burning rig. Knowing the cops, they probably wouldn't bother searching the entire complex of apartments. It would only be a minor inconvenience to reap them if they got too close.

 

A shot grazed his cheek like a kiss. His lips twitched up into a smile as he glanced at the roof opposite him.

 

Jack stood in full view, moon hanging behind him like his own personal halo of silver, pulse rifle at the ready. Flirty little bird. How had he got over there so fast? Gabe put his claws to his lips and made to blow a kiss... but flipped Jack off instead.

 

The pulse rifle swung down as Jack let go of his grip on the barrel. His shoulders bobbed up and down. The force of his laugh made him take a step back. Lifting the heavy weapon, he slung it over his shoulder, shaking his head. Damn that was cute. Gabe could imagine what his face looked like under the mask. That explosive first chuckle would just bubble out of him, because Jack was never a man to hide how he felt. His mouth would hang open for a moment, before he realized and closed it. But that would only make his shoulders bob harder, his laugh still rippling out of him. And then he would smile, a smile that was pure, uncut affection. Jack's heart was forever on his sleeve.

 

It annoyed Gabe that it still made him melt after all these years.

 

Jack shook his head once more. He touched his index finger to his forehead for a moment, then turned, disappearing from the roof. Oh, if he thought this was over he was mistaken.

 

Gabe shadow stepped up the roof, then ghosted across one of the crumbling sky-ways to the other building. The scent of Jack’s pine aftershave lingered here. Gabe moved to the edge. The alley fed down into a better lit, crowded street. Wouldn't take much for Jack to slip away, take off the mask and jacket, blend in with the crowd. He squatted down on the ledge peering over the roofs. The hunt was still on. Let Jack think he'd had his fun and left Gabe wanting. Jack didn't take no for an answer? Well, Gabe got what he wanted.

 

“If I was a hot sack of bleached wheat, were would I go?” he mused aloud.

 

He ghosted across the rooftop, another wisp of smoke in the night. He materialized overlooking the crowded street. What should have been his team's exit from the alley was blocked by three cop cars. A decently sized crowd clustered around the barricade, straining to see the source of the rising column of smoke.

 

Most people on the street at least paid attention to the commotion some attention, but a few seemed oblivious—man in a suit yelling into a phone, a woman juggling two snot-faced, screaming kids, and a tall man walking slowly away, his back to the disruption of the day-to-day of London. Gabe tilted his head to one side. Broad back covered by a skin-tight black shirt, no coat to ward off the night's chill. A beat up, blue ball-cap hid his hair and face. A large army-green rucksack dangled from one powerful shoulder. It swayed heavily, the weight digging the strap into the man's shoulder. He adjusted it as he walked, revealing a nice ass squeezed into a pair of tight black pants. Gabe smirked.

 

Jack could mask his face, but he could never mask that ass. Gabe would know it anywhere. He ghosted again, streaming across the rooftops, under busy sky-ways, keeping out of sight, but always having Jack in his. He pooled together in the shadow of a chimney, crouching over the edge of the building like a gargoyle. Jack walked behind a herd of late night club kids, all of them oblivious to Gabe five stories above them.

 

Where was his _pajarillo_ flitting off to? A safe house. But which one? He racked his memory. Overwatch had so many bases, watchpoints, civilian offices, official and unofficial safe houses. That wasn't even including Blackwatch's considerable resources. Gabe knew thirty in the area off the top of his head, been in about ten personally over the years, and knew there was probably more he didn't remember. Which ones Jack remembered was another story.

 

Gabe followed along the rooftops, hanging back, as Jack rounded corners, crossed streets, doubled back. At least he was being smarter than he had in years past. Finally, Jack headed into a residential looking motel.

 

Interesting. Gabe watched through the glass of the lobby doors as Jack pushed the button for the second floor. Once he disappeared behind the elevator doors, Gabe shadow stepped into the lobby, letting himself into the stairwell before anyone noticed. Bounding up them four at a time, he pressed his back to the wall beside the door, listening.

 

The elevator doors opened, a pause, then they closed. Nothing. How had he got his room already? Seemed stupid to be so close to the elevator. Carefully, Gabe brushed the control panel for the stairwell. The door slid open quietly. He paused before leaning forward to check the hall. Nothing. He slid out of the stairwell. No one in the hall. All the doors were closed. Not a sound disturbed the quiet.

 

Unease crawled up his spine. Quiet was never good. Even Jack should have made some noise opening his door. He crept down the hall, pausing at each door, listening. Nothing. It was like this floor was empty. The elevator pinged again. Gabe slipped into the nook of a doorway out of the hall. No sound again. Hotel for ghosts? He allowed himself a small smile. He would be in the right place.

 

After a moment of silence, he checked to see if anyone had interrupted his hunt. No one. Where the fuck had Jack disappeared to? He stepped out into the hall to continue his search. If he had to ghost into each and every room to find him—

 

Something grazed his ass. There was thud, and a new bullet hole decorated the wall. Gabe turned.

 

Jack stood in the elevator, ball-cap pushed back, smirking, pulse rifle over his shoulder. “Fell for the oldest trick in the book,” he said, shaking his head. “Losing your touch, Gabe.”

 

That little _tease_. Growling, Gabe sprinted for the elevator. Jack just stood there, coy smile on his face, completely at ease. Not for long because the minute Gabe got his claws on him—

 

Two strides from the door the elevator closed in his face, cutting off Jack's smirk but not the laugh that floated through the metal. Oh,  _fuck_ no. Doors did not stop him anymore. Gabe ghosted, pouring through the seams in the door and into the elevator car in a rush that made him dizzy. He wasn't even finished materializing when he crashed into Jack.

 

The pulse rifle banged to the floor. Gabe hooked his elbows behind Jack's knees, lifting him off the floor, slamming his back to the wall. Jack managed to let out a surprised grunt before Gabe crushed their mouths together. He bit Jack's scarred lips, licked anywhere and everywhere his tongue could reach. Bucking his hips, he rutted against Jack's groin so wonderfully close to his own. Goddamn, he needed Jack out of his clothes.

 

Jack's nails scraped down the back of Gabe's neck, fingers pulling at the back of the Kevlar. Gabe growled, shoulders taut, pants too tight, legs braced, his desire to wreck the man pressed against him scorching his veins. It was like they were teens again.

 

“You cost me a lot of money, _pajarillo_ ,” he snarled, grinding his crotch against Jack's. “I'm gonna take it out of your ass.”

 

Jack's eyes half-closed. He grinned, blood trickling from the split were Gabe had bit too hard. _"Ven a por mí."_

 

Lightning fast, Jack's legs whipped up and wrapped around Gabe's neck. He had a split second to enjoy the view, and then Jack twisted his hips, wrenching them sideways. They fell to the floor, Jack sitting squarely on Gabe's chest, knees pinning his biceps, feet pinning his hands.

 

Jack leered down at him. “Always let your guard down when you think you're gonna get laid.”

 

“So do you.” Gabe kicked one leg up and around Jack's head, yanking him back.

 

The other's weight disappeared off his arms as Jack toppled backwards. Gabe put his other foot under Jack's chin, pushing it back, threatening to snap his neck. Jack rammed both feet into Gabe's jaw. It wasn't enough force to break it—Jack could have done it easily—just enough that Gabe's hold loosened.

 

Jack rolled out of the leg-lock and back to his feet. Gabe put his hands behind shoulders, bringing his knees to his chest and then kicked, springing to his feet. They circled one another in the small space, fists up, lips quirked into grins.

 

“Where are your glasses, old man?” Gabe teased.

 

“Got something better than glasses to deal with you.” Jack smirked, reaching into the pouch on his belt. He flicked out a knife.

 

Gabe shivered, a moan escaping him. He had to bite his lip to cut it off. Jack's half-lidded eyes had a triumphant gleam that pissed him off as much as it sent heat racing through him.

 

“You didn't think I'd forget what you liked, did you?” Jack asked, spinning the blade between his fingers.

 

Oh no. After all these years, Jack remember _exactly_ what got his blood racing. _"Pajarillo,"_ Gabe warned. “You're playing a dangerous game.”

 

“I love danger.” Jack stepped in and slashed, blade whizzing through the air.

 

Gabe leaned back, the tip of the knife a breath away from his neck. He punched Jack's elbow to force the strike to over-swing. Jack adapted, spinning with the force and bringing his other elbow around to smash him in the face.

 

Ducking under the strike, Gabe rushed forward, grabbing Jack around the waist and slamming him into the wall again. The knife slashed up. Gabe caught the wrist and pinned it to the wall. He bit the pale throat, sucking the soft skin as his nose was filled with the overpowering aroma of Jack and fading pine.

 

Jack's hips bucked, a strangled moan torn from his lips. Oh yes. Gabe remembered exactly what worked on him too. Jack shuddered, breath ragged, and not from their little sparring match. Gabe rocked his hips again, biting down. Fuck! Jack's body heat scorched him through the Kevlar.

 

 _“Ropa. Fuera,"_ Gabe snarled against the marked throat. _"Ahora."_

 

“We're in a goddamn elevator,” Jack growled back.

 

“Does it look like I care?”

 

Jack turned, clamping his teeth on Gabe's ear and pulled too hard to be foreplay. Gabe jerked his head back, tearing his ear out of Jack's mouth.

 

“The fuck?”

 

“Cool off,” Jack snapped.

 

“You never cared about fucking in public places before,” Gabe purred, rocking his hips again.

 

Jack quivered before he composed himself. “We weren't hunted criminals before.”

 

“Should've thought of that before you undressed me with bullets.”

 

Jack slapped the elevator control panel. The doors opened. Before Gabe could question _what the fuck,_ Jack coiled his legs between them and kicked. Gabe flew back, crashing into the hall. He pushed himself up on his elbows.

 

“Sixth floor,” Jack said, punching the panel again and the doors closed.

 

That was the problem with Jack. He was such a fucking golden boy when he did underhanded shit like that, you never saw it coming. Rolling to his feet, Gabe sprinted to the stairs, bounding up them five at a time. He nearly crashed through the sixth floor doorway. He tore down the hall, sliding to a stop in front of the elevator doors as they pinged. They opened to an empty car.

 

“Jack!”

 

Chuckling flitted across his comline.

 

“Did I say sixth? Meant fifth.”

 

“I'm going to kill you.” Screw the stairs. He ghosted, flowing between the gaps into the elevator shaft and down. He squeezed through the closed doors into the hall.

 

Jack leaned against a wall at the end of the row. He uncrossed his arms and nodded at the room, opening the door and walking in. Oh, Gabe was going to make that white bread _pay_ for tonight. He walked—damn, it took all his self-restraint to walk—to the room. Slowly, he pushed open the door locked it behind him. No one was going to disturb them. His gaze swept the small room. Bed. Chair. Side-arm in holster. Lamp. Nightstand. Rucksack. Pulse rifle.

 

No Jack.

 

 _¿Dónde te escondes, pajarillo?"_ He walked toward the bed.

 

Cool metal slid under his chin. Gabe chuckled, turning his head enough to see Jack's hiding place behind the corner were the short hall of the entryway met with the rest of the room.

 

 _“Aquí estoy,"_ Jack said, digging the point of the knife into the ashen skin.

 

_ "¿Ya has terminado de revolotear?" _

 

Jack smirked, hooking the tip of the knife behind Gabe's chin and dragging him close. _"Te tengo justo donde te quería."_

 

The knife slid down Gabe's throat, its feather-light kiss making every cell in his body burn with lust. “I'm getting tired of foreplay, _mi amor,"_ he rumbled.

 

“No you're not.” The tip of the knife pressed into the Kevlar on his chest, cutting through it, leaving a gash in the black.

 

Gabe knocked the hand away. The knife embedded in the wall. Jack grabbed his head and pulled them together. Roughly, Gabe slammed Jack against the wall, devouring the kiss like he was starving. The rough, red gloves tore at the back of the Kevlar, ripping it open at the seams. Gabe struggled to get his arms out of the annoying top. Jack helped him tear it off and fling it to the floor. Gabe's fingers found Jack's belt. In a second, it was off and across the room. His claws popped open the button and nearly tore the zipper off.

 

“Easy,” Jack gasped. “I like these pants.”

 

“I liked that top. And those belts. And that coat.” But he liked them better shot off with such precision it made him hard just remembering it.

 

“Off!” Jack shoved him back. “Boots. Pants.”

 

Gabe breathed heavily through his nose. Instead of following the order, he leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, watching his little bird undo the latches on his boots and yank them off. Jack shucked off his pants and kick them into a corner.

 

“What are you waiting for?” he snapped. “Strip.”

 

Gabe grinned. He ghosted, deliberately not taking the pants or boots with him. He re-materialized behind Jack, pressing his hard-on against that perfect ass. “Don't need as much time as you do.”

 

Jack tried to turn, but Gabe pulled him into the bed. They rolled, snarling, snapping, all sharp elbows and deadly knees. Gabe twisted, throwing Jack onto his back and locking his thighs against the pale hips.

 

Jack panted, blue-eyes lust clouded, fingers leaving bruises on Gabe's shoulders. “Lube's on the nightstand.”

 

Gabe smirked. “Always prepared.”

 

“One of us has to be.”

 

“I keep a bottle in my ammo belt you shot off.”

 

Jack laughed. “Good to know.” He pulled Gabe down again, crushing their lips together as Gabe groped for the nightstand.

 

The lamp crashed to the floor as the nightstand toppled over. Gabe yanked his hand back, biting the top of the lube and tore it off.

 

“No claws,” Jack growled.

 

Gabe wiggled his metal-tipped fingers. “Thought you loved danger.”

 

“Get those things near me and I'll tear your balls off.”

 

He would, too. Gabe bit the knuckle of his right gauntlet and yanked it free. _"¿Contento ahora?”_

 

“When you fuck me, I will be.”

 

“God, you always know exactly what to say.” He lubed his fingers and then swirled one around the hot entrance.

 

Jack moaned, fingers curling into claws that dug into the gray skin. _"¡Deja de atormentarme!"_

 

“So you get to have your fun but I don't get mine?” Gabe slid a fingertip inside, making Jack buck.

 

“I'm warning you.”

 

Gabe started to chuckle, but it morphed into a moan when lube-wet fingers wrapped around his hard cock. Damn it, when had Jack—his thought was swept away in a wave of pleasure as Jack stroked him.

 

“Get on with it or you'll cum before you ever have the chance to fuck me.”

 

“You underhanded, no good, son of a—”

 

Jack squeezed and slid his thumb over Gabe's wet slit.

 

 _"Dios mio!_ ” he gasped, hips jerking into Jack's fist. He was too fucking turned on to keep his cool through that. He really would cum if Jack did it again. He slid his finger deep inside his lover.

 

Jack groaned, his head falling back onto the pillow. “ _Si_!”

 

Gabe tested another finger, slowly working it in, stretching, teasing. A little more lube and then a third could fit, reducing Jack to a moaning mess.

 

 _"Por favor, ahora!_ ” Jack whinnied, his legs sliding against the sheets. “ _Gabriel, por favor!_ ”

 

His claws dug into the mattress as he lined them up and pressed inside. Jack's nails broke skin, hips jerking in little flutters as he adjusted to Gabe's girth. Moaning, he slid in deeper, basking in the tight heat, smoke rippling off his body.

 

Jack tightened his hold. “You're not going anywhere,” he growled.

 

“Not trying to,” Gabe rumbled. Goddamn it was hard to keep himself together. _“Te necesito."_

 

Jack pushed himself up, biting Gabe's lip and giving it a playful tug. _“Cogeme duro, Gabriel._ ”

 

Gabe rammed his hips forward. The headboard banged against the wall. Jack whined, legs snapping shut on Gabe's hips.

 

“Like that?”

 

“ _Si !_ ”

 

Gabe thrust again, ramming himself home, Jack gasping and begging for more in his ear.

 

_ “Si! Dios mio, si!" _

 

Gabe bit the pale shoulder as he bucked, leaving bloody teeth-marks behind. The headboard slammed against the wall over and over.

 

_ "Mas duro! Gabriel! Ah! Mas duro!” _

 

“Jack,” he snarled, biting his way back up his neck.

 

The strong hands grasped at his shoulder blades. God, this powerful, beautiful man that could have anyone in the world chose to be here, with him. Begged him for it. Put his life on the line to flirt with him. It was more that he deserved.

 

He cupped Jack's chin, tilting his face up, kissing him like it was the last time he ever would. _“Ven para mí, bello."_ __

“ _Gabriel, Gabriel_ ,” Jack moaned. “ _Por favor!_ ”

 

“ _Si, pajarillo."_ He put his lips to Jack's ear. “ _Te amo._ ” He thrust, burying himself deep.

 

Jack threw his head against the pillow, back arched, shoulders pressed into the mattress. He came, wet heat spurting across Gabe's abs. God, the way he writhed, the press of his legs, the curling toes, the fingers grasping at him like he was the only thing in the world, that mouth caressing his name like it was a prayer. Gabe came almost without realizing. He buried his face in Jack's neck, the scent of his lover anchoring him, giving him something to hold onto when he let go.

 

He thrust through it, shuddering, body letting off wisps of smoke that curled through the air toward the ceiling.  God it felt good. Jack felt good, everything felt good. He sank down to the elbows, groaning. Fuck he felt _too_ good again. He'd reaped a little from the dead before to take the edge off, but now he was fully sated. In more ways than one.

 

Jack's heavy breathing confirmed that he was still alive. Gabe laid his head on the heaving chest. Yes. Strong, rapid heartbeat. Thank God. He pulled out and Jack let out a little whimper of disappointment.

 

“Shh,” Gabe soothed, checking him over for any signs of reaping. If he killed—

 

“I'm fine,” Jack said, as if reading his mind. “You worry too much.”

 

Gabe relaxed, rolling over. He breathed out a stream of smoke. Jack followed him, wrapping his arms around his neck, pulling him back, tangling their legs together.

 

“Forgot how much of a cuddler you are,” he said.

 

“Coming from the man I'd wake up to spooning with me even if it was a hundred and ten degrees.” Jack nuzzled into the nape of Gabe's neck, just holding him tight.

 

“What?” Gabe asked, running his hand down Jack's scarred back. He only got the full body hug when the other was upset.

 

“Don't fade away,” Jack mumbled. _“No me dejes.”_

 

Gabe gave Jack's ass a squeeze. “I won't.”

 

“I'd kill you if you did.”

 

“You miss me that much?” Gabe chuckled.

 

“Hardly.” Jack bit his ear and tugged on it. “Haven't been fucked this good in ages, that's all.”

 

Gabe put his finger under Jack's chin and tilted his face to him. “Who taught you to talk so dirty?”

 

“You.”

 

Gabe grinned. _“Dime cosas sucias."_

 

“You'd like that wouldn't you? Fine.” He grinned, lips fluttering against Gabe's. “Room's paid through tomorrow.”

 

“Naughty,” Gabe teased.

 

“Porno channel is cheap.”

 

“Filthy.” Gabe rolled his eyes and chuckled.

 

Jack's smile turned wicked. “Shower has room for two.”

 

“ _Dios mio!_ ” he rumbled, bringing their lips together.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Once again thanks to my wonderful beta readers Kaijuspotch and Alifree!  
> and a big huge thanks to Midna_Ronoa for the idea and the Spanish,  
> and thank you to Mishaisnotthatfuunyjensen for double checking to make sure Gabe and Jack use Latin America/LA Spanish and not Castilian Spanish! 
> 
> Translations: (boy there are a lot!)  
> Pinche Puto- fucking bitch  
> Cojeme- Fuck me  
> cabrón- (losely) asshole  
> Joder- Fuck  
> Mi amor ¿Eres tú jugueteando?- My love is that you playing games?  
> Eres tú ¿no?- It is you, isn't it?  
> Sal, sal de donde quiera que estés- Come out come out wherever you are.  
> Voy a encontrarte, Jack- I'm going to find you, Jack  
> pajarillo- little bird  
> corazón- sweetheart  
> Bello- Beautiful  
> Has fallado, guapo- you missed me, handsome  
> ¿Ah si?- Did I?  
> Corre todo lo que quieras, la muerte viene a por ti- Run all you want, death comes for you  
> La muerte llega con demasiada facilidad-Death comes too easily  
> mi amor- my love  
> Mi corazón Me tienes hambriento- my sweetheart I hunger for you  
> ¡Vuelve aquí! ¡Ahora!- Get back here! Now!  
> Siempre tan impaciente, Gabriel. ¿Que hay de divertido en eso?- Always so impatiant, Gabriel. Where's the fun in that?  
> Comienza la cacería- The hunt is on  
> Atrápame si puedes- catch me if you can  
> Ven a por mí- come get me  
> Ropa. Fuera. Ahora.- Clothes. Off. Now.  
> ¿Dónde te escondes, pajarillo?- Where are you hiding, little brid?  
> Aquí estoy- Here I am  
> ¿Ya has terminado de revolotear?-finally done flying away?  
> Te tengo justo donde te quería- got you right where I want you  
> ¿Contento ahora?-happy now?  
> ¡Deja de atormentarme!- stop teasing me!  
> Dios mio- My god!  
> Por favor, ahora! Gabriel, por favor!- Please now! Gabriel, Please!  
> Te necesito- I need you  
> Cogeme duro, Gabriel- Fuck me hard/rough, Gabriel  
> Si! Dios mio, si- Yes! My God, Yes!  
> Mas duro! Gabriel! Ah! Mas duro!-Harder Gabriel! Harder!  
> Ven para mí, bello- Cum for me, beautiful  
> Te amo- I love you  
> No me dejes- Don't leave me  
> Dime cosas sucias- Talk dirty to me


End file.
